I'm Drunk and I Hate You
by Kira Loves
Summary: Lassiter drinks himself past pleasant and Shawn's left driving him home but wait- wasn't Shawn the one who's supposed to be drunk? After all, he was dumped not Lassie. Shassie.


**A/N: My first ever posted Shassie one shot, re-edited for your reading pleasure. ;)**

Head detective Carlton Lassiter of the Santa Barbara police department hates consultant and faux psychic Shawn Spencer with damn near every fiber in his being. He grits his teeth every time the little pests strides into a room. His brow sledgehammers into a furrow whenever that inexplicable bane of his existence makes a sarcastic joke or a witty comeback. His face becomes a loathsome shade of red should the walking, talking, physical embodiment of annoyance push one too many a button. Even the younger man's name cocked Lassiter's expression in such a way that bitterness was portrayed in every line and crease. One would imagine that these things wouldn't be the focus of Lassiter's annoyance that he would instead dwell on the fact that the little squirt stole his cases and just generally showed him up. However, it really was more so the little things; the random dancing, the whimsical banter and, especially, the secret dunderhead language Spencer would speak with his unofficial partner, Burton Guster. Any and everything Lassiter's own personal pest did seemed to aggravate him and just like real vermin, time and eradication attempts did nothing. It would be one thing if it was someone dignified and apt who took the detective's cases and glory but this little nonsensical, borderline child? Just annoyance to aggravation.

Let the record show though that Shawn Spencer _adores_ the head detective. That sour mug was like Christmas to Shawn; a Christmas made up of an ever present set up to his favorite joke and all wrapped up in poor haircut choices and ties. It all had to do with tripping up Lassie's demeanor. The prankster in the younger man just could not resist his desire to send all that seriousness and overbearing sense of duty tumbling into a fit of miniature rage. It was almost like a game; _how long will Lassie go until he threatens to hit me? Until he actually hits me? Until he picks me up by the collar and gives me the boot? Or tries to anyway. I _am_ invaluable to the department after all._

So it was no big surprise when Shawn came waltzing into Carlton's favorite bar with that huge grin of his that the frustrated cop simply responded by burying his face into the counter and praying that those suspected hyper observational skills were a complete lie. However, this proved moot. Even upon hiding his face, Lassiter could still feel his annoying 'co-worker' approach him with his traditional swagger. It was as if he'd known that the cop was going to have his weekly beer and just up and decided that hounding him with his unwarranted smirk at work just wasn't enough. To add to some odd sketch he had in his head, the unwelcomed jester inhaled deeply and with gusto.

"You smell that, Gus?" Shawn asked his bewildered companion.

Even his partner didn't know what he was getting at and was confused as he subtly sniffed the air.

"What?" he asked.

"That is the smell of complete and utter jealousy," Shawn took in another whiff, "with a hint of resentment and a dash of...sexual tension?"

Shawn seemed to contemplate this as Gus gave him a questioning look. Lassiter refused to surface his face. Maybe if he didn't move Shawn would think he was dead and leave him be. It wasn't in human nature to annoy something that was dead right?

"Oh, Lassie" he at last made his definitive move, "It's just you."

"Go away," Carlton groaned as he questioned the humanity of his irritating oppressor.

The bar stool squeaked as Shawn ignored the usually proud member of the authorities and took a seat. His reluctant friend followed suit as usual and the two men requested drinks. Then the man child known as Shawn swung his legs, spinning the bar stool and ultimately kicking Lassiter in the shin.

"Damn it, Spencer!" Lassiter shouted as he abruptly abandoned his ostrich-like position.

"Sorry," the little shit held up his hands as if to ward the cop away despite the smile playing on his lips.

"How did you find me here anyway?"

"My powers." Shawn raised an eyebrow, "The universe spoke to me and said you were in dire need of my company."

Lassiter really wasn't in the mood for all this. He never was but especially not at the moment. The poor cop had been particularly out done by the con man early that day. He'd made a grave miscalculation, leading him to a dead end in a hot case and by the time he'd gone back to the station to start anew, everyone was singing Shawn's praises and the murderer was arrested. After a blow to the occupational ego like that, Lassiter was more than done with Shawn for the day.

"Come on Lassie-face," the friendly pest said, putting a hand on the other man's shoulder, "Humor me."

He threw off the invading hand with a scowl and stood up. Humor him? Humor him indeed! Lassiter would rather piss a rainbow on the American flag than humor Spencer.

…okay maybe not piss a rainbow. Paint a rainbow? Yeah that seemed less blasphemous to the strong patriot.

"Shouldn't you be out with O'Hara?" Lassiter asked as he angrily shrugged on his coat.

Lassiter expected some lame sex joke or an over dramatic, fake reaction. It didn't matter to him which predicted line was spewed in his general direction. The goal was to leave and leave he would. However, the detective's suspicions increased as nothing followed his statement but the sound of bar chatter. A quick glance at Shawn over his shoulder and the younger man was revealed to be staring intently into his drink. Meanwhile, Gus subtly waved his arms around signaling that the cop had said something explicitly taboo.

"What?" Lassiter asked, frozen in place.

"Shawn and Juliet are-" Gus tried to word it but instead gave an apologetic look toward his best friend.

"What?" Lassiter asked again.

Shawn sucked in a huge breath as he pulled himself away from the hypnotizing amber colored liquid.

"We are no more." he proclaimed, "We are finito. Finished. Done."

It was phrased with the utmost childish of words but the quieted feeling behind them was very real. It was obvious by the way the fake psychic eyed his beer again that Juliet had done the dumping. Lassiter supposed it was about time that his partner came to her senses and whatever Shawn did to bring about her revelation was surely worthy of being dumped like a bag of bricks. However, the detective caught the way the clever consultant's eyebrow's dropped for a second and he could feel the faltering façade crumbling at Shawn's edges. That's why he was really here wasn't it? To drink it away. Suddenly the smug smile that was forming on Lassiter's lips had fallen to the wayside. Drinking over losing a woman…Lassiter could sympathize with that.

"Well," Lassiter swallowed hard as he slowly finished shuffling into his coat, "My apologies, Spencer."

He wouldn't be a complete ass to the heartbroken man. As much as Lassiter would normally jump at the chance to rub Spencer's nose into something (_anything) _it was just downright immoral to kick him down at this level. The way Shawn looked too, slight bags under his eyes, his mouth a thin line of held back emotions, his hair ruffled from the numerous times he'd run his hand through it. No wonder he hadn't been showing up at the department lately. And when he was here today…he did seem off. So Lassiter offered an apology, curt and only half obligatory.

"Drink with us, Lassie," Shawn said with a sigh and a halfhearted laugh, "After all, misery loves company."

"I really don't think I should," the cop replied, slightly taken by surprise.

"One drink wouldn't hurt," the semi-apathetic yet persistent man tried to persuade him.

"I really ought to go."

Lassiter turned his back to the he duo and their doomed mission of drunken heartbreak and general debauchery. If he could manage to set one step in motion then he was sure to escape the inevitable escapade. However, despite the rising bar chatter and his crowded thoughts, Shawn managed to squeak out one last statement like a final nail into a coffin.

"Et tu, Lassieface?"

Despite the attempt to seem comical, there was something genuinely sad in Shawn's voice. Lassiter hated him, yes, to the point that he'd often debated leaving him in the middle of nowhere or perhaps tripping him down some stairs, but he didn't hate him enough to follow through and he certainly didn't hate him enough to leave the pained prankster in his hour of need. The more he thought about it too, the more he realized that he didn't hate Shawn at all. He wouldn't admit to enjoying the little twerp but he settled on defining their relationship as being annoyed with him. That seemed the most truthful and appropriate at the end of the day. And just because someone was annoying didn't mean you turned your back on them.

Lassiter sighed. He'd almost taken that first step too.

The resigned detective sat back down in his seat and half glared at Spencer.

"You're buying." he informed through slightly gritted teeth.

"Ah, what?" Shawn whined.

"If that's the case," Gus smiled and flagged down the bartender, "I'll have a Grass Skirt please."

"Gus!" the man treating protested, "That's a pink drink!"

"Say what you will, Shawn, but it is the most delicious pink drink mankind has ever known."

Shawn rolled his eyes and elbowed Lassiter gently. He gestured to Gus mockingly but Lassiter stared back stone faced and completely un-amused. This caused the failed comedian to cringe and turn back toward his embarrassing friend with the stupid girl drink that was sure to-

"Gus...is that pineapple?"

The other man held his drink defensively.

"No, Shawn," he said, his hands cupping the curved glass, "I am not letting you steal my drink!"

"Oh come on," Shawn whined, "I just want a sip!"

Gus sighed and handed his glass to his friend. He was always a bit of a pushover. Damn his giving nature and friendly, cool demeanor.

"Shawn!" Gus shouted, demeanor be damned, as Shawn promptly chugged the drink.

The thief smacked his lips, savoring the downed pineapple juice and gin.

"That _is_ the most delicious pink drink known to mankind." Shawn said before he ate the pineapple garnish and hailed the bartender, "Three Grass Skirts!"

"Absolutely not, Spencer," Lassiter said before clarifying his preference to the bar man, "I'll have a Scotch."

Shawn turned to Gus and shrugged. They'd completely abandoned their beers. Lassiter almost felt it was a shame but it wasn't as if he'd drink them. That would be cross contaminating their germs. That and Lassiter didn't like sharing.

Not many drinks passed before the two buffoons next to the cop began their antics. Shawn started singing a song at full volume, a tune that Lassiter had never heard before.

"HAKUNA MATATA!" he sang out, "WHAT A WONDERFUL PHRASE!"

Shawn wasn't entirely sure how he knew this song. The Lion King was well beyond his childhood years. Maybe he'd heard it in passing but the words had stuck with him whether he liked it or not it was a proud anthem that rang out from his lungs as his buzz tickled his senses.

Meanwhile, if Lassiter had to endure musical numbers then he was going to need more alcohol. _Much_ more alcohol.

Lassiter had started throwing them back by the time Gus attempted to join Shawn in song. Of course, this required a few more Grass Skirts for the (mostly) logical man. Alternatively, the original soloist had stopped drinking entirely and had simply began to steal the tropical garnishes from his companion's glasses.

"HAKUNA MATATA!" the two sang loudly and in surprising unison for their third reprisal, "WHAT A WONDERFUL PAY! HAKUNA MARACA! IT'LL GET YOU LAID!"

Other patrons in the bar were becoming irritated with Shawn and Gus's half made up children's song. One by one they began to disappear. Lassiter couldn't blame them. He felt like he'd taken a sip with every note they sang. In fact, he _had_ taken a sip for every note and the more they sang the more of those devilish little glasses were thrown back.

The bartender loomed over the musical duo with crossed arms. He was fairly annoyed at this point and while he let a lot of things slide in his bar, cheerfully massacring a Disney song to the point that it causes mass evacuation was not one of them.

"That's enough of the song, gentlemen," he said in a stern voice, "and you should probably take care of the cop. I normally call him a cab but tonight I'm leaving him to you two."

Shawn laughed and turned to look over at Lassiter about to comment that "the cop" was quite fine and didn't need any taking care of. Instead he noticed the small colony of empty glasses growing by the detective's hand. The cop was leaned over and swaying a bit and Shawn's lingering buzz was finishing it's escape as he eyed Lassiter in slight awe.

_How did he manage to drink all that?_

"He's like an alcoholic ninja," Shawn observed as he brought Gus's attention to Lassiter.

"Uh, Shawn, I think we should get him away from the bar..."

Lassiter stared at Shawn still as stony as ever.

"How does that song go?" the drunken cop asked, his words a little slower than usual, "Hakunoo Matatoo? That's stupid. I hate you."

"Oh, Lassie," Shawn said as he pushed an innocent finger at one of the many glasses, "you're running up my bill."

"What are we going to do with him?" Gus asked as he mentally resigned himself to pay half the price of the night's alcoholic bounty.

"Train him to appreciate good singing?" Shawn offered, "I mean I'm no Curt Smith but surely I'm not drink inducing. I consider myself a young Springsteen at best."

"First of all, your best is a Backstreet Boy, maybe," the best friend indulged in the idiocy before getting serious, "And I meant how are we going to get him home?"

"Lassie?" Shawn looked over his shoulder at Lassiter who had begun building a pyramid out of his glasses with stern concentration, "Well, I'm sure he could sniff his way home."

"Don't joke about scents, Shawn," Gus argued, "Such powers are blessed on a select few in this world."

He sighed and tapped his finger on the bar counter. The glazed wood gleamed back his reflection and in it he could see Lassiter glaring at him once more.

_This is not going to be fun_, Shawn thought, avoiding looking up at the hard stare awaiting him.

"Shawn, I'll be honest," Gus interrupted Shawn's thoughts, "I've had one too many myself to be driving."

"Really? You don't seem like it."

"That's because I'm a mellow drunk and you'd know that if you'd stop getting drunk before me."

Gus may have loosened up enough to start singing but that wasn't exactly rare. Shawn got Gus to do all sorts of stupid things. He did appear sleepier though and his already laidback demeanor seemed to recline further into a blissful half grin.

_So that's the kind of drunk he is._ Shawn thought, amused.

The most sober of the trio turned back to face the most inebriated and was greeted with a glare that could scold the devil himself.

"So what kind of drunk is he?" Shawn pointed a nervously at Lassiter.

Gus looked over Shawn's shoulder at Lassiter who was still sending daggers into the other man's skull with his eyes.

"The kind I don't want to meet in an alley," the best friend answered with a nod.

"You know he was much more pleasant the last time he was drunk."

"I think he drank beyond pleasant, Shawn."

Shawn hopped off of his bar stool and stood in a manly stance as he looked upon his two drunken companions (well buzzed companion and drunken coworker).

"All right, Lassie," Shawn announced, "Let's get you home."

Lassiter did not want to go home. More importantly, he did not want Shawn driving him home. He would sooner trust his drunk, impaired self to drive than Shawn Spencer.

"No," he said with firm resolution.

"That wasn't a question, Lassafrass," Shawn pointed out, "Now come along, before I think better of my kindness."

Lassiter knew he wasn't sober enough to drive. He'd overdone it with the Scotch. Even as he went to get up he could feel the world tilt. Luckily, Shawn caught him as he started to teeter over.

Lassie was no easy weight to bear. He didn't seem like a big guy but invariably he was heavy on Shawn's shoulders as he half dragged the head detective out to the parking lot. Gus wasn't much help either. He didn't even bother aiding Shawn in carrying the drunken detective.

Shawn loaded Lassiter into the back seat. God, why had he invited him to drink? He was totally unaware that the cop was going to border getting hammered. Shawn figured maybe he could get him drunk enough to say something nice and hopefully sober enough to keep Gus and Shawn in line but this drunken stupor was completely unexpected.

Gus handed Shawn his car keys.

"Just take him home," Gus instructed.

"Wait," Shawn protested, "What about you?"

"I'll take a cab," Gus stated, "Besides, I don't trust you to drive me home. You might trick me into doing something stupid."

"Gus! I am insulted," Shawn feigned hurt, "There should be no 'might' in that statement."

"Good night, Shawn!" Gus said as he began to walk back into the bar as he rummaged through his pocket for his phone.

Shawn looked back to the Psych Mobile. How did Shawn manage to become the responsible one for the night? He was the one who'd been dumped. _He_ was supposed to get horribly drunk. Instead, the grumpy cop had taken his place in a blissful alcoholic stupor. Nonetheless he took the responsibility and hoped at the very least he might be able to hold the evening over Lassie's head come morning.

The car ride over was the most disturbing and uncomfortable hour of Shawn's life. The traffic was not only a nightmare but Shawn kept getting distracted by Lassie in the review mirror. Lassie was just staring at him. Shawn was used to the detective's icy glare of disdain but this was getting a bit excessive.

"Lassie," he called to the backseat, "you're starting to creep me out a bit."

"I hate you," Lassiter responded sleepily.

"Love you too, Lassieface," Shawn sighed.

Eventually, they pulled up to the somewhat isolated house that Lassiter called home. It was set apart from the others and consisted of hard edges and sleek lines. There were some bushes in the front but they were just as square and plain as everything else. Shawn shook his head at the boring architecture and the sad attempt at decoration. He went in to assist the drunken cop to the door but the past hour had sobered the cop enough to resist and insist on doing it himself. Shawn tailed him carefully and laughed a bit to himself as Lassiter pawed for his keys on his person to no avail.

"You having some trouble there?"

Lassiter hardened his glare if that were physically possible.

"Try your right pocket," Shawn instructed feeling as though his adorable humor was wasted on Lassie.

The cop was unresponsive. He could hear Shawn but his words didn't make sense. It was like he was speaking gibberish not that it made him worry. He felt that Shawn spoke gibberish all the time anyway. He just couldn't stop looking at him with such festering contempt. What was he doing at his house anyway? He wasn't invited. More importantly why were they outside? Was this real or a dream? A nightmare more like it but then-

Shawn was not going to spend the rest of the night on Lassie's porch while Lassie glared him into oblivion. He braced himself as he plunged his brave hand into Lassiter's right pocket.

"Pretend you're digging through the couch," Shawn chanted as he closed his eyes and searched, "Digging through the couch. Digging through the couch. Digging through the- oh dear God I would definitely not find that in my couch!"

His fingers retreated as he made a face. He held them close as if trying to soothe them from the trauma of accidentally brushing against Lassie's penis before giving his own glare to the unhelpful cop.

"Your keys are in your left pocket, aren't they?" he asked, exasperated.

Despite Shawn brushing against his member, Lassiter still couldn't break his glare. He really didn't like him. He didn't like him at all. Maybe it was Shawn's big stupid nose or perhaps it was that ring in his voice. Maybe it was just the general essence of Shawness.

_Shawness? I _am_ drunk._

Shawn plunged his hand into Lassie's other pocket and quickly found his keys. When Shawn held them into the air victoriously, the unresponsive detective suddenly grabbed the keys from him.

_Fucking Spencer...stealing my damn keys_, he thought as he fumbled with his lock and doorknob.

Shawn was relieved. Once Lassie was secure in his own home Shawn could run off to his own place and-

_And do what? Try to sleep over the fact that a beautiful, gorgeous, funny woman broke up with me?_

Before Shawn could answer himself, Lassiter had opened the door and comically fell in.

"Jesus!" Shawn shouted as he went to aid the detective, "You've got to be kidding me!"

The sudden shift in gravity made the slowly sobering cop unable to walk by himself. Shawn guided him carefully through bare, white walls and into what he assumed was Lassie's bedroom. He even aided him in sitting on the bed where Lassie began to grope at ridding himself of his suit jacket while kicking of his shiny loafers.

"What are you doing?" Lassiter asked his aid, "No shoes in the house."

Shawn was annoyed but kicked off his shoes to appease the drunk.

"Listen, Lassie," Shawn told him sternly, "It's time for all good boys to go to bed."

"Shut up, Shawn."

"Just go to sleep," he used his best hypnotist voice, "Go to sleep."

Sleep seemed like a great idea. Sleep seemed like the best idea in the world. However Shawn was the one who suggested it and everyone knows that if Shawn said it then it must _not_ be the best idea in the world. However, sleep still sounded pretty good to the cop.

"Maybe," Lassiter said.

Shawn couldn't help but smile a little as he kneeled to the cop's level. Lassie had on his 'no' face but he was saying maybe. He let his chuckle linger off before giving a coy smile.

"You're so attractive when you agree with me."

Lassiter furrowed his brow a bit more and unintentionally leaned into Shawn's face.

"You don't mean that," he asserted.

"Oh but I do," Shawn continued to tease him; "You become heartbreakingly handsome. You're so sexy I can barely keep my hands off of you."

Shawn always said things like that. He was always poking fun at Lassiter with those damn homoerotic jokes. He acted like he was being clever and witty but he wasn't. He's just a snot nosed kid who couldn't keep his mouth shut to save his life. And why tease him by being sexual? What? Was Shawn some teenager looking to confirm his own machismo? He just _had_ to tease the cop about everything; his conclusions, his work ethic, even his looks. Why did this insufferable person have to pick on him? Why him? It was so infuriating!

"So you're attracted to me?" Lassiter said his voice skeptical and challenging as he squinted his eyes.

"Of course, Lassieface," the false psychic said with feigned sincerity, "With every ounce of my very being."

Lassiter had had enough. So Shawn wanted to pretend to be a psychic? Fine. He wanted to act like he wasn't adult? Okay. He wanted to say that he's attracted to Lassiter? All right then. Lassiter closed his eyes tight and gathered his concentration.

Lassiter grabbed Shawn by the shoulders and stood up. He was using every ounce of sober will power he had as he threw his target onto the bed and pinned him down.

Shawn's eyes were wide. In one swift movement, he was on his back and trapped under the detective's grip and weight. He opened his mouth to say something but Lassiter silenced him with his lips.

It was a harsh, angry kiss. Shawn's muffled protests fell on deaf ears. The furious cop was determined to show Shawn that he couldn't go around saying whatever he wanted. He was hell bent on proving that Shawn Spencer was not as clever as he thought he was. That one day the lies he tells will catch up to him. And he'd do it by any means necessary, even this.

_Now what are you going to do, Spencer? Are you going to lie to me some more?_

If that was Shawn's plan Carlton didn't want to hear it. The drunk and angry cop was so tired of his pest, so sick of his own private nuisance. This would be the final straw, the last lie Shawn Spencer was ever to tell because he couldn't keep lying to him. Not this way. Not about this.

Carlton pulled his face away from Shawn. Shawn's eyes had grown even wider.

_Oh Go, does he think-? No. No, he's drunk. Lassie's _just_ drunk...drunk and trying to MOLEST ME!_

"Detective Lassiter," Shawn's voice sounded strange trying to use the proper title, "I'm not- I don't-"

He couldn't bring himself to say it out right. His mind came up with hundreds of ways to phrase it: I don't swing at that angle, I don't bat for that team, I don't fish in that pond, I don't dig light sabers, I've never been one to chase balls. He'd said the last one before actually and it was true. Shawn Spencer did not pursue men. He _never_ pursued men. However, that didn't mean that men hadn't pursued Shawn...and occasionally succeeded.

_But I had way more to drink then. _Way_ more. And this is Lassie. LASSIE. I'd need a whole wheelbarrow of legal and illegal substances to let this happen. _

Not that Shawn hadn't thought about it before. Oh, he'd never confess to having the occasional sex dream about Lassiter, mainly because Shawn chalked it up to Lassie being the last person he saw and Jules choosing not putting out that same night. Never in his wildest dreams though did the conservative cop come on to him. It never happened like that. It always started out with an empty interrogation room or something and Shawn would just be teasing him and one thing would lead to another and-

_No! This is not the time to remember sexy sex dreams with Lassie!_

Lassiter's gaze was still cold and stern. He had a resolve in his stare and it terrified the man under that stare.

"But Shawn," Lassiter said, "I'm so attractive."

Lassiter kissed Shawn's neck. Shawn could feel his panic trying to take over but he realized quickly what Lassiter was up to. His hands reached up to wrestle their way to freedom but stronger arms matched the attempt and pinned those hands down mercilessly.

"O-okay, Lassie," Shawn stuttered as he realized the cop's intentions, "I get it."

"Heartbreakingly handsome."

Lassiter planted another kiss. This time his tongue lingered on Shawn's tender flesh and it responded with goose bumps.

"You've made your point, okay? Get off of me!" he struggled more, the bed creaking as he fought.

"So sexy you can barely keep your hands off me."

Lassiter bit into Shawn's neck evoking a gasp from Shawn. Lassiter sucked and bit at the flesh. He would mark Shawn. He would mark him for the fucking little liar he was.

He'd mark him because he hated him. He hated how the little shit was silly and disrespectful. He hated how playful and sunny he was. He hated his stupid charisma and big smile. He hated that Shawn was so happy and that his happiness rubbed off of anyone and everyone like a God damn, fucking disease. He despised the way the younger man would stride into a room and make it his with just a fucking grin. That he was smart and brilliant and just- _everything_. Lassiter hated Shawn Spencer so much that he could barely breathe. He hated him so much he couldn't see. He hated, hated, _hated_ him!

And for that, he hated himself too.

"S-stop!" Shawn cried out his legs trying to kick, "I'm sorry, all right!? I'm sorry! What do want from me?"

Lassiter stopped his violent kiss and pulled away enough to look Shawn dead in the eye. Already the blood had risen to the other man's neck. There were teeth marks that were turning purple. Sweat was running down Lassiter's victim as he stared up with tears in his eyes. It'd had all gone too far now but the desperate cop couldn't stop.

"I want you," he said, his voice trembling from his anger, "to mean it."

"I _am_ sorry!" Shawn pleaded, "Truly, deeply sor-"

"No!" Lassiter shouted, "I want you to mean all those things."

_He wants me to mean what I said to him? What did I say?_

Shawn's face turned red as he realized what Lassiter was demanding. The sweet, teasing nothings, the flirtatious mockery, that was what the aggressive cop wanted. But Shawn could never mean those things…could he? He looked up at the man hovering above him. His eyes trailed the waves of salt and pepper hair, down to those adorable sticky-out ears and even across the stern scowl that hinted at vulnerability. Lassiter wasn't unattractive. He could admit that. And even though he'd just sexually attacked Shawn, Shawn wasn't fighting it because he thought he was going to get raped…he was fighting it because, in the weirdest and most unsettling way, he _liked_ it.

Lassiter took the silence as an awkward no. It was to be expected. What did he have to offer anyway? Aging looks? An obsession with Civil War re-enactments? Social ineptitude? Or maybe his sub-par detective skills would win the other man over? There was nothing there for Shawn, nothing to like especially when Shawn was so amazing in comparison and Lassiter couldn't stand it.

"I hate you," he growled as he glared down at the object of his unrequited affection.

Shawn looked up at wounded detective. Shawn could see the hurt, almost feel it. It was there hiding behind the detective's icy blues and the creases of his eyes. He'd hurt him and he'd been hurting but he hadn't meant for that. He only teased Lassiter in order to get a response from him. If he didn't act like a little prick then how would Lassiter notice him? He would be another inconsequential speck in Lassiter's view, another co-worker the anti-social detective grazed over and Shawn couldn't bear to be that but he couldn't bear to be hated either.

"Do you really hate me?" Shawn asked.

Lassiter's nose hovered over Shawn's. The fury was there, in his breath as it steamed against Shawn's lips but there were tears in his eyes, pooling despite the hiss of his voice

"You take my cases. You take my time. You take my glory!" Lassiter paused as he nearly collapsed his face into Shawn's ear, "And you take my breath away."

Lassiter loosened his grip on Shawn's wrists. His face fell into the warming crook of the other man's neck. He breathed him in, however temporary it was. He just wanted to remember this; this moment of honesty. Maybe that could last him forever and if it didn't then at least it was still something and it was his.

Shawn lied there, awestruck as he felt the breath of the other man at his neck and the subtle shake of the body hovering over him.

_I take his breath away?_

Shawn pulled his arms out from under Lassiter's grip. He wasn't sure what he was doing. His hands seemed to be moving on their own as they travelled up to Lassie's face. They lead the other man to look up and eventually they gravitated towards his ears as the two men locked gazes.

"You are a handsome man," Shawn said, his voice serious and sincere but slightly hesitant, "I love how strong you are and how you never give up." He fingered those beloved ears affectionately, "I love your eyes and how blue they are. And Lassie, I really do like your hair now. I promise. This cut's a good look on you."

The younger man lifted his head a little and tugged lightly at Carlton's unique and wonderful ears. He wasn't sure how to go about kissing Lassie but he wanted to kiss him at least once. Lassiter deserved that much if not more. Truth be told, Shawn deserved it too. The kidding and joking aside, Shawn knew his heart skipped a beat whenever the cop entered a room and that those dreams he had about him happened a lot more than they should.

"I know I've said this before but," the cop confessed closely to Shawn's lips, "you astound me."

They kissed with the utmost tenderness. It was the softest kiss either had ever had and it was everything. It was the sun and the moon. It was every birthday and Christmas. It was pineapple shakes and civil war moustaches. It was swimming with the dolphins and every promotion. It was everything.

Shawn pulled Lassiter closer to him. Being this near him was the safest he'd ever felt. Shawn knew that he was just a kid, forever a kid. He'd never grow up no matter what and there wasn't a woman alive who could make him, not even Jules but Lassiter didn't expect Shawn to grow up. The cop was fully aware of exactly who he was and that Shawn could barely take care of himself much less a wife and kids. Shawn didn't even want a wife and kids. He just wanted to be forever young, forever himself and loved for it.

Shawn's tongue poked at Carlton's lips, a proposal to come out and play. Shyly, Lassiter let his tongue emerge. There was a part of the conservative cop that wanted to pull away. He might have been still drunk but somewhere he knew this wasn't a good idea. This wouldn't end well. It never did.

Carlton couldn't stop though. He was so in love with that little ball of pestering sunshine. There were days that the detective dreaded him, yes, much like the exhausted dread felt from the beams of light peaking in through blinds at six in the morning. But what would he do without him? What would he do without his sunshine?

Their kissing intensified as they both came to grips with their feelings. Shawn wrapped his arms around Lassiter's torso. He ran his hands up and down his back feeling the curve and cut of the cop's masculinity played out in every subtle back muscle and tendon. His fingers cried out into Lassiter's body begging for more, pleading for it.

Shawn pulled at the button up shirt, un-tucking it from Lassiter's pants. He fumbled with the buttons and undid them as quickly as he could. He was halfway done with it determined to do it before the cop could tell him not to. Lassiter's hands had still been hesitant and Shawn knew that. He was tempting fate here but he was already halfway through the buttons when the cop pulled slightly away and broke the kiss.

"What are you doing?" he asked, his eyes genuinely confused.

"Sh, Lassie, you're ruining the moment!" Shawn demanded.

"Shawn, no."

The younger man looked up at Lassiter with almost an offense.

"What do you mean no?"

"I mean I-I don't know if...I don't know!"

Lassiter had never had sex with another man and, to be honest, it'd been years since he'd had sex at all. Was he really ready to roll straight into all this? His liquor was starting to wear off on the edges as it was. Lassiter couldn't have sex with Shawn Spencer. It went against a protocol or something, right? He tried to put more distance between them, slowly crawling off.

"That is not a good enough answer!" the unrelenting man declared as he grabbed the cop.

Shawn had not dragged around a drunken Lassiter, gotten molested by a drunken Lassiter and confessed things to a drunken Lassiter to not get fucked by a drunken Lassiter!

Shawn began unbuckling the cop's belt and unzipping his pants like a frustrated child trying to open a duct tape sealed present. This surprised Lassiter and yet amused him in a way. The determination on Shawn's face was almost cute that was until Shawn managed to get past buckle and zipper and hovered his hand over Lassiter's member.

Suddenly there was nothing amusing about the fake psychic's behavior. The childish determination was replaced with a look the likes of which the detective had never seen before. Shawn was not only alluring but, dare Lassiter think it, vulnerable. The expression said so many things: "I want you. I need you. Take me. Be with me. Stay with me." Shawn's entire playful demeanor had vanished and in its stead was a feeling, real person that Lassiter both couldn't and did not want to resist.

Shawn felt himself teetering the border of physical need but it was more than sexual longing. He needed this grumpy, stern cop in a way he'd never felt need before like if Lassiter didn't take him here and now that they'd never go beyond their daily teasing and games. It was now or never for them and if they never got together now that they're feelings were mutual, Shawn knew his life at the police department was over. Solving crime wouldn't be worth it without Lassie. It'd never be worth it again.

"Sleep with me," he whispered his plea as he looked Carlton straight in the eye.

And the cop found himself nodding. He couldn't resist those brown eyes; those brown eyes that spoke volumes of need and the desire to be needed; that spoke the very things Lassiter had always wanted to hear and the things he himself had been guilty of. He pressed his lips against that pleading man with eagerness. 'Yes' his tongue said as it slid into the other man's mouth. Shawn began petting the cop's member and it rose to meet that hand. Shawn broke the kiss to smirk at the cop.

"Do whatever feels right," he advised huskily in Lassiter's ear before giving it a lick.

Lassiter felt a gruff moan escape his lips as Shawn cheekily seized and began pumping at his cock. Carlton Lassiter had never moaned out loud during intercourse in his entire life and yet this pestering boy had enticed him to do so in no time and with a simple touch no less. It practically insulted his pride as a man. The cop didn't want to be made to moan he wanted to make Shawn moan.

In one swift motion, Lassiter relocated and pinned Shawn's hands straight above his head earning him a response of slight shock from the manhandling. Lassiter would be damned if Shawn upstaged him in the _bedroom_ of all places.

"_This_ feels right," he said, his voice both sexy and authoritative.

With one hand, Lassiter quickly unbuttoned the other man's plaid shirt. He looked down at two erect nipples, pink dots on tanned skin. He hesitated. Could Carlton Lassiter, thee Carlton Lassiter, really make love to a man?

_But he's not just a man is he? Just like he's not _just_ a snot nosed kid or a phony psychic. He's-_

"Lassie?" Shawn asked, becoming aware of the detective's hesitation "You don't have to force yourself to do this."

"Don't question me, Spencer," the cop responded.

Lassiter's free hand hovered above a nipple. It looked so tender, so soft and vulnerable. He wanted to touch it- no, bite it. Yes, he _wanted_ this.

Lassiter's teeth grazed an nipped at Shawn's pink flesh eliciting breathy noises from the younger man. The seasoned detective licked at the sensitive skin earning him a soft 'n' sound from the back of Shawn's throat. Lassiter smiled a little. He liked this. The position of power was intoxicating and so was hearing Shawn's appreciative noises. Lassiter began to lick and suck and bite at Shawn's nipple, reveling in the small symphony of the other man's quickened breaths and light gasps. His hovering hand soon found the neglected nipple and began to pinch and knead it expertly. The experimenting man could feel Shawn's erection on his thigh and it spurred him further allowing his hand to venture south toward Shawn's pants. His mouth moved to the recently abandoned nipple and made up for it with gentle love bites. Lassiter had gotten past pant and boxer and the full length of Shawn's member prodded his palm and he didn't even think to hesitate as he took Shawn's cock.

"Oh fuck, Lassie," Shawn tried to swallow his moan but it came out anyway.

Lassiter paused, the other man's member in his hand. Lassiter himself was fully erect but that one statement, _oh fuck, Lassie_, was making his member start to leak, precum daunting the tip.

"I want you," he demanded, "now."

Lassiter gave up on holding Shawn's wrists hostage to pull the other man's jeans off. He grabbed him by his ass with both hands and picked him up and off the bed. The bottom in his hands had a fullness and a firmness but more so he felt the other man's cock up against his.

"L-lube" Shawn managed to stutter out, "We need lube."

Lassiter pulled him close and Shawn held him tightly, wrapping his arms and legs around him. Lassiter reached over to his nightstand for the bottle of lotion sitting on top of it. The held man kissed and licked at the cop's neck, urging him to be quick about the formalities.

Lassiter pumped the lotion out onto his palm and then began to rub it over his member. It was cool and slick over his cock, causing him to thrill at his own touch. Shawn could feel some of the lotion land near his entrance and he found himself pulling his body up and down against Lassiter, his cock rubbing against the other man's lower abs. The dominant man turned around, still standing, and forced Shawn's arms to break grip where he landed on the bed , his legs still wrapped around Lassiter. Their members brushed together and it forced a grunt out of Lassiter

He grabbed Shawn's legs by the thighs and forced them off, up, and to a more suitable position. His legs were now bent at the knee, his knees coming up to his chest. Lassiter made sure those legs were open too, exposing every inch of the younger man. He gripped the underside of firm thighs and rubbed his hands up and down them, forcing Shawn to stay in place and teasing him as his thumbs glided against Shawn's balls and entrance.

The younger man was honestly surprised that the republican had made it this far without instruction. Surprised and very impressed. And very turned on. Shawn was sure that Lassiter knew nothing about fingering and prompting for entrance but Shawn didn't care. He was becoming desperate for release.

Lassiter smirked as he rubbed his dick against Shawn's entrance. He wasn't going to go in just yet but it wasn't a question of sexuality or mechanics that made him hesitate. No, it was a purposeful hesitation. He'd go in all right, he was too far gone not to, but he wanted to Shawn to ask for it.

"Lassie," the younger man moaned, annoyed and sexually frustrated, "c'mon already. Do it."

"Do what?" Lassiter asked with a gleam in his eyes.

At first he thought it might just be right winger's lack of experience in male on male sex so he reached down and inserted a finger in himself in order to demonstrate, moaning at his own touch. Lassiter watched, both mystified and heavily turned on as Shawn added another finger and proceeded to stretch his entrance for Lassiter's member.

"Put it- in there," he said a red rising to his face from his own mixed perception of hurt and pleasure.

"That's very nice, Shawn," Lassiter said as pressed the tip of his member against Shawn's opening, mingling with fingers that tugged and pulled at that hole. The fingers quickly moved out of the way in rushed hopefulness. Instead, the power tripped cop continued to tease by circling the head of cock around Shawn's exposed entrance.

"Lassie, do it." Shawn said again bringing two index fingers down and holding his entrance open for Lassiter.

"Do what?" he asked, looking for a particular answer more than asking.

An even redder blush hit the younger man's face as he recognized the coy intent in Lassiter's voice. He practically pouted.

_Of course. You can't be smug and have a proper victory dance when you're right about something but you sure can be a smug bastard when I'm on my back!_

"Take me already!" Shawn demanded, not wanting to give in to Lassiter's lust for dominance.

Shawn Spencer was on his back and holding himself open, cock erect and blush in full bloom. It was too priceless an image, too prime an opportunity and Lassiter intended to play it out.

"Say please."

"Please," Shawn requested, half moan and half whine.

"Say myname," he said as he slowly put pressed his tip against tight muscle.

"Please, Lassie," Shawn gasped lightly as Lassiter's tip poked at him.

This made the cop pull his cock away and he eyed his soon to be lover.

"My real name."

"Please- Carlton?"

Just as Shawn was beginning to think about how stupid the name Carlton was, Lassiter thrusted himself into Shawn with full force.

Shawn groaned loudly with the entrance. He knew the other man was a pretty good size but inside he felt twice as big as he looked and it was damn near unbearable. Lassiter on the other hand made no apologies for his size. Shawn was tight, tighter than any woman he'd had ever slept with. The thrusts into Shawn were almost too much for Carlton to take but he staved off his orgasm, determined to make Shawn come first.

Shawn bit his lip as Lassiter pounded in and out of him. God, did it hurt. Shawn hadn't been with a man in a few years. He'd forgotten how much it would hurt first but then Lassiter went for his ninth thrust in and Shawn let out a sudden, loud, deep moan.

"Hit-" Shawn said with strained efforts, "that."

Lassiter began did just that; thrusting with a renewed sense of excitement and gaining force and speed. The bed creaked beneath them with his movements. Shawn's moans and gasps were music to Lassiter's ears. He could listen to that man moan and breathlessly say his name for hours.

Shawn was coming close to a climax. He knew that it was going to be one of those climaxes that would attack his whole body. Even now it had conquered most of him. He was trying his hardest not to give in yet, wanting to make the most of it but he couldn't keep staving it off.

Shawn let out hard moan as he came. His mouth dropped open and his eyes made a stop in euphoria. His body felt all pins and needles as his seed spilled out of him, seed that Lassiter. And it was strange the warmth of Shawn's sticky essence seemed to turn him on even more and with a few more pumps he himself came just as hard.

Lassiter pulled out his lotion and semen covered cock and lied down beside Shawn. Meanwhile the other man slowly lowered his legs back down and rolled himself onto his stomach, his body at least allowing him to do that much. They both breathed heavily as they came down from their sexual highs neither even trying to say something. It was just the quiet and their breathing as both began to fall asleep.

Lassiter woke up the next morning with the worst headache in the world. He had a hangover and it hurt not just a little but a whole fucking lot. He hadn't drunk that way in years and he could feel his age punishing him for it. He tried to push himself out of bed but it was pointless. He could not and would not move but there was some silver lining in that considering how soft his pillow was and how warm his sheets were.

_And at least I can just stay home and far away from-_

"Morning, Lassie," Shawn said sleepily as he poked Lassiter's bicep.

Lassiter felt embarrassed as his memory of the night before came back to him. It wasn't an outright mortification but just a slight embarrassment. He hadn't meant for so much to happen all at once. In fact, he hadn't meant for anything to happen at all.

"Spencer?"

"Yeah, Lassieface?"

"We never talk about this..."

"Oh, are you embarrassed of me?" Shawn challenged.

"No!" Lassiter shouted, much to his head's dismay, "I just-"

"Want to fuck me again?"

"Spencer!"

Spencer grabbed Lassie's arm and put it around him. He already knew that Lassiter wasn't going to have the best morning after reaction but now that Shawn knew the truth it didn't matter what Lassiter _pretended_ to feel. The steely cop liked him, more than liked him. He _liked_ liked him and that gave Shawn the confidence and fire to return those affections.

"You know you told me you loved me," Shawn teased.

"What!"

"Yeah, you said you loved me more than justice itself."

"Now I know you're lying."

Shawn laughed but he noticed how Lassie hadn't pulled away yet. More so, he noticed how the head detective's fingers curled into a comfortable position and even the way he leaned down a little bit, face temptingly poised to bury itself in Shawn's hair.

Lassiter had slept with Shawn. It was a fact and he had to accept it. What else could he do? Shawn Spencer was in his bed, post fuck, cuddling with him and there was nothing Lassiter could do to change that.

And Lassiter never felt happier.

"You think maybe I could top one of these days?" Shawn asked.

"No."

"Ah, what? C'mon!"

"Never."

"Lassie! Not even on my birthday?"

"Not even then. Wait, who said we were doing this again?"

"Your eyes."

"Spencer!"

**A/N: And that, ladies and gentleman, is the revised version! :D**


End file.
